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A masterís handiwork cannot be measured
But still priests wag their tongues explaining the ďWayĒ and babbling about ďZen.Ē
This old monk has never cared for false piety
And my nose wrinkles at the dark smell of incense before the Buddha.

I think I've posted this elsewhere here, but I really like it.
It's by Charles Simic, the poet laureate of the U.S.
I think it captures the simplicity of our sitting and the possible role of rituals, robes and rites.

STONE

Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger's tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill--
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.

I'm no poet and granted this thought was probably influenced by a lot of Thich Nhat Hanh, but it's what popped into my head. Today the sky's a bit grey. It'll probably still be grey after zazen, but that's ok. The clouds still taste the same.
Cheers,
Bruce

Above all, my fve poem

TS Eliot's thesis on a Cat's Zazen!
from The Naming of Cats"...But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover -
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name."

now if I can find a poem describing how a cat mindfully eats... Or I may have observe my Chloe and write one myself!

If anyone listens to Writer's Almanac on NPR, you heard this one today, but it just floored me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Keys by Nancy Henry

When things got hard
I used to drive and keep on drivingó
once to North Carolina
once to Arizonaó
I'm through with all that now, I hope.
The last time was years ago.

But oh, how I would drive
and keep on driving!
The universe around me
all well in my control;
anything I wanted on the radio,
the air blasting hot or cold;
sobbing as loudly as I cared to sob,
screaming as loudly as I needed to scream.
I would live on apples and black coffee,
shower at truck stops,
sleep curled up
in the cozy back seat I loved.

The last time, I left at 3 a.m.
By New York state,
I stopped screaming;
by Tulsa
I stopped sobbing;
by the time I pulled into Flagstaff
I was thinking
about the Canyon,
I was so empty.
Thinking about the canyon
I was.

I sat on the rim at dawn,
let all the colors fill me.
It was cold. I saw my breath
like steam from a soup pot.
I saw small fossils in the gravel.
I saw how much world there was

This is my favourite teaching, The Song of Mahamudra. The great sage Tilopa is teaching Naropa. These are the ancestors of the Karma Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. See if you can see the similarity to Shikantaza.

The Song of Mahamudra

Mahamudra is beyond all words
And symbols, but for you, Naropa,
Earnest and loyal, must this be said.

The Void needs no reliance,
Mahamudra rests on nought.
Without making an effort,
One can break the yoke
Thus gaining Liberation.

If one sees nought when staring into space,
If with the mind one then observes the mind,
One destroys distinctions
And reaches Buddhahood.

The clouds that wander through the sky
Have no roots, no home; nor do the distinctive
Thoughts floating through the mind.
Once the Self-mind is seen,
Discrimination stops.

In space shapes and colors form,
But neither by black nor white is space tinged.
From the Self-mind all things emerge, the mind
By virtues and by vices is not stained.

The darkness of ages cannot shroud
The glowing sun; the long kalpas
Of Samsara ne'er can hide
The Mind's brilliant light.

Though words are spoken to explain the Void,
The Void as such can never be expressed.
Though we say "the mind is a bright light,"
It is beyond all words and symbols.
Although the mind is void in essence,
All things it embraces and contains.

Do nought with the body but relax,
Shut firm the mouth and think of nought.
Empty your mind and think of nought.
Like a hollow bamboo
Rest at ease your body.
Giving not nor taking,
Put your mind at rest.
Mahamudra is like a mind that clings to nought.
Thus practicing, in time you will reach Buddhahood.

The practice of Mantra and Paramita,
Instruction in the Sutras and Precepts,
And teaching from the Schools and Scriptures will not bring
Realization of the Innate Truth.
For if the mind when filled with some desire
Should seek a goal, it only hides the Light.

He who keeps Tantric Precepts
Yet discriminates, betrays
The spirit of Samaya.
Cease all activity, abandon
All desire, let thoughts rise and fall
As they will like the ocean waves.
He who never harms the Non-abiding
Nor the Principle of Non-distinction,
Upholds the Tantric Precepts.

He who abandons craving
And clings not to this or that,
Perceives the real meaning
Given in the Scriptures.

In Mahamudra all one's sins are burned;
In Mahamudra one is released
From the prison of this world.
This is the Dharma's supreme torch.
Those who disbelieve it
Are fools who ever wallow
In misery and sorrow.

To strive for Liberation
One should rely on a Guru.
When your mind receives his blessing
Emancipation is at hand.

Alas, all things in this world are meaningless,
They are but sorrow's seeds.
Small teachings lead to acts;
One should only follow
Teachings that are great.

To transcend duality
Is the Kingly View;
To conquer distractions is
The Royal Practice;
The Path of No-practice
Is the Way of Buddhas;
He who treads that Path
Reaches Buddhahood.

Transient is this world;
Like phantoms and dreams,
Substance it has none.
Renounce it and forsake your kin,
Cut the strings of lust and hatred,
Meditate in woods and mountains.
If without effort you remain
Loosely in the "natural state,"
Soon Mahamudra you will win
And attain the Non-attainment.

Cut the root of a tree
And the leaves will wither;
Cut the root of your mind
And samsara falls.

The light of any lamp
Dispels in a moment
The darkness of long kalpas;
The strong light of the mind
In but a flash will burn
The veil of ignorance.

Whoever clings to mind sees not
The truth of what's Beyond the mind.
Whoever stives to practice Dharma
Finds not the truth of Beyond-practice.
To know what is Beyond both mind and practice,
One should cut cleanly through the root of mind
And stare naked. One should thus break away
From all distinctions and remain at ease.

One should not give or take
But remain natural,
For Mahamudra is beyond
All acceptance and rejection.
Since the Alaya is not born,
No one can obstruct or soil it;
Staying in the "Unborn" realm
All appearance will dissolve
Into the Dharmata, all self-will
And pride will vanish into nought.

The supreme Understanding transcends
All this and that. The supreme Action
Embraces great resourcefulness
Without attachment. The supreme
Accomplishment is to realize
Immanence without hope.

At first a yogi feels his mind
Is tumbling like a waterfall;
In mid-course, like the Ganges
It flows on slow and gentle;
In the end, it is a great
Vast ocean, where the Lights
Of Son and Mother merge in one.

Thank you very much for posting those translations of the Song of Freedom and the Mahamudra. Ah, they don't write stuff like they used to anymore!

I would like to underline just a few lines that echo some of what we have been talking about around here (of course, the way I put things is much less beautiful) ...

not struggling against delusion
or grasping after the truth.

One sees the nature of ignorance
to be itself Essential Awareness,

and the illusion of oneís own body
is the Realm of Reality.

Completely realizing
the Realm of Reality to be objectless,

one finds oneself the source of all things
and oneís own nature to be Awake Awareness. [Jundo]

--- [From the Mahamudra]:

Do nought with the body but relax,
Shut firm the mouth and think of nought.
Empty your mind and think of nought.
Like a hollow bamboo
Rest at ease your body.
Giving not nor taking,
Put your mind at rest.
Mahamudra is like a mind that clings to nought.
Thus practicing, in time you will reach Buddhahood.

Iíve never really written any poetry, but this one sort of popped into my head while thinking about Nishijima Roshiís analogy of a pearl on a razorís edge for describing our freedom of choice in the present moment. Anyway, for what itís worth...

I do not cease swimming in the seas of love,
rising with the wave, then descending;
now the wave sustains me, and then I sink beneath it;
love bears me away where there is no longer any shore.
-Al Hallaj-

poetry corner

Yes, thank you Harry, for the lesson in haiku. I'm telling you--if I stick around here long enough, I just might end up with an education!
Hello Kelly and others here:
I actually like to work with the 5, 7, 5 constraint. Getting a thought to fall within it is a bit of a challenge. English is awkward and doesn't easily lend itself to it--but that's precisely what I like about it. I like to discover the seed of the thought, just as it 'germinates.' To me, it is bonsai prose/poetry: small, yet complete.
Having the 5, 7, 5 form requires me to work with the thought a bit--when the lines find themselves, it's a little like putting a puzzle ring back together--taaa daaaa!
gassho
keishin

Re: poetry corner

Originally Posted by Keishin

Yes, thank you Harry, for the lesson in haiku. I'm telling you--if I stick around here long enough, I just might end up with an education!
Hello Kelly and others here:
I actually like to work with the 5, 7, 5 constraint. Getting a thought to fall within it is a bit of a challenge. English is awkward and doesn't easily lend itself to it--but that's precisely what I like about it. I like to discover the seed of the thought, just as it 'germinates.' To me, it is bonsai prose/poetry: small, yet complete.
Having the 5, 7, 5 form requires me to work with the thought a bit--when the lines find themselves, it's a little like putting a puzzle ring back together--taaa daaaa!
gassho
keishin

I agree, I have a couple other Haiku, but they just don't seem complete yet, not until I reach the 5-7-5 outline. That is not to say I 'grasp' for such conformity, but I kind of like the challenge of complying with it.

I've never really been one for poetry, but recently Haiku have been popping into my head (or at least the seeds from which to grow a 'complete' haiku). These tiny poems fascinate me a bit. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and yet a handful of carefully constructed words can paint a vivid picture.

I also find that some of the haiku here, such as your last couple Keishin, remind me a little of Koan, which also intrigues me.

When you understand,
reality depends on you.
When you don't understand,
you depend on reality.
When reality depends on you,
that which isn't real becomes real.
When you depend on reality,
that which is real becomes false.
When reality depends on you,
everything is true.

In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?